


Leave

by yeaka



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Hyrule Warriors
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Ficlet, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 23:52:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11115513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Post-heat, Link’s in no shape for battle.





	Leave

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for legend-of-linkle’s “Volga/Link, a/b/o” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/) [from this list](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/161379570810/au-prompt-list).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Legend of Zelda or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He’s as beautiful as he is remarkable, laid out across Volga’s bed, his stomach glued to the sheets in a wealth of bodily fluids. His back is a long, smooth expanse that Volga traces with eager hands, petting down from slumped shoulders over a slender curve, up onto the round curve of Link’s ass, half covered in a white sheet. Volga dips his fingers below it, kneading Link’s cheeks, and Link gives a reedy moan against the pillow. He looks so spent it’s a wonder he can even breathe. Volga puffs a thin trail of steam across his middle back, just to watch him shiver and sweat and listen to him whimper. He’s _gorgeous_.

And he’s Volga’s. Utterly and entirely, Link’s heat has bound them together; they’re no longer simple lovers but _bonded_ , and Volga can feel every one of Link’s laboured breaths in his own chest. He looks at Link not as a rival, not as any sort of warrior, but the most exquisite, divine treasure Volga’s ever held. And Volga’s a dragon that guards his treasure very, _very_ well.

He leans down to draw his searing Lips along Link’s shoulders, and Link pants and spreads his legs. The sheet stretches for it, Link’s hips stuttering. Link’s needy whine is music to Volga’s ears. The fierce want to _claim_ Link claws at him again, but he holds himself back; he’s done enough damage. He’s thoroughly impressed. Not many omegas could withstand the ravaging of a dragon. But Link not only took every round, he _begged_ for it, with his eyes and hands and wordless noises, and he offers himself now. He turns his cheek against the pillow to peer up at Volga through bleary blue eyes, and his hand slowly moves across the mattress, seeking Volga’s thigh. Volga’s finally managed to dress, if only in his black pants and shirt without the bother of armour—he’d meant to finally go and fetch his little omega something to eat. His role, after all, isn’t just to _fuck_ , but to care for. No harm will ever come to this perfect gem on his watch.

Link finally presses his soft palm against the hard bulge between Volga’s legs, and Volga allows a contented sigh. He knows Link would eagerly take him again, even so close to the brink of exhaustion, a dozen rounds later after two days of solid fucking. Volga’s never heard of a heat so virile, nor an omega so strong. But he should know by now that there are no other omegas like _Link_. It was thoroughly worth changing sides. 

Link rubs weakly at Volga’s clothed cock and licks his kiss-swollen lips. Volga reaches down to pet a few sweat-slicked blond strands away from his pretty eyes. Link tries to lean into the touch, then turns to mouth at the retreating digits, as though wanting to kiss them but not having the wherewithal. Volga finds himself chuckling fondly and lowering a hand to let Link toy with; Link sucks his fingers with hazy-eyed ardour. 

Perhaps food can wait. Hylians are hearty, and Link is the greatest of them. Surely, he could withstand another round. His channel is probably sore and trembling, but still aching to be _used_ again, and no one can fill him like Volga can. Volga bends down, intending to replace his fingers with his tongue.

But a knock sounds on the door of his quarters, and a glare doesn’t stop a second one from coming. 

Begrudgingly, Volga rises from the bed. Link whines at the loss of him, reaching feebly out, but Volga is quickly out of reach. He wrenches the door open just enough to stick his head through, blocking the view inside, and snaps, “What?”

Impa wrinkles her nose. Tall and stern, she eyes Volga with a piercing intensity; Volga knows she’s never quite trusted him. If she knew the sort of compensation he got from his bonded omega, she’d understand that his loyalty is unshakeable. Link would break their bond if he proved anything less, and Volga wouldn’t stand for that. Impa looks even less pleased than usual, and it takes Volga a second to realize that it might be from the stench—his small chambers _reek_ of sex. 

She says not a word of it, instead asking tightly, “Have you seen Link? He was absent from today’s battle, which is most unlike him.” And she looks very much like she considers that Volga’s fault.

In the background, Volga can hear Link’s groan, and he glances back to see Link lifting up on shaking arms. Volga growls, “Stay,” and Link instantly drops back to the mattress, for once obeying him. There must not be any strength left to fight. To Impa, Volga barks, “He’s indisposed.”

“What is this?” Impa snarls, brows drawing down in her fury—Volga will begrudgingly admit she’s a worthy alpha to the princess, if not one that could ever truly take on _him_. “Is this some plot to corrupt our greatest warrior and deliver victory to Cia?”

Volga’s glare would send a thousand bokoblins running. He never appreciates being doubted. But he can tell that she won’t leave until she has an answer, so Volga, seething at the insolence, tosses the door open. Marching back towards the bed, he rips the sheet away, revealing all of Link’s glorious body, his thighs soaked through with a flood of dragon seed that’s still trickling out of him. Link winces, his rear clenching, but he doesn’t move otherwise, just hides his blushing cheeks in the pillows. Impa _stares_. Perhaps she doesn’t have such fun with her beloved princess.

Volga enjoys his mighty warrior fully, and he coldly drawls, “I confess I’m not well versed in the laws of Hyrule... but where I come from, an omega is entitled to some rest in the wake of heat.” 

Impa flushes blood red, if not from vehemence than embarrassment. She ignores Volga, instead turning to face Link and thinly tells him, “I expect you to report for duty... the day after tomorrow.”

Link peeks over to nod his head, impossibly redder than her. 

Without another word, Impa turns on her heel. Volga lets her storm away and strolls over to close the door again, only for Link to toss a pillow at him. It lands surprisingly hard against his middle, given how drained Link is.

Yet he instantly lights up when Volga purrs, “Perhaps one more round...” As soon as Volga’s reached the bed, Link’s lifting up to meet him, and Volga bestows Link with a possessive kiss before diving in.


End file.
